It's curtains for you, mister
May. 17th, 2003 12:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helvirago posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionI'm not sure how well this counts, but curtains, it turns out, just aren't that evocative for me, except in this context. Although maybe it doesn't relate to curtains at all. Oh, well, heck, judge for yourselves.
I thought, when I first made it out to the wilderness with Dief at my side, that it was like coming back to life. This, after all, is my real life: the loneliness but also the purpose, and the wonder at the vast glory around me, and the service to my community. I had been exiled, yes, but here was a small taste, to remind myself that one day, if I were patient, I would return to my life for good. Chicago had been unreal, a deafening confusion of sights and smells and people. Some of those people had grown very dear to me, and when I returned I would miss them: Lieutenant Welsh, Jack Huey, and of course the Vecchios, who had been so kind in welcoming me. But the city itself was a nightmare.
I determined to use my time home wisely, and yet of course my plans went astray, as they so often seemed these days to do, and Dief and I found ourselves in a long-ranging pursuit of an offender. Though the surroundings were much more natural to me, it reminded me very much of Chicago, and of the cases Ray Vecchio and I worked, and I thought how good it was to have this reminder of how hectic life there was. I thought it would spur me to greater appreciate the small reprieve I had before needing to return to the city.
After the criminal was apprehended, however, and I had had the strangest conversation with Ray, I realized that I felt as though something was missing. As though I were waiting for the next thing to happen, when I had expected to be enjoying the peace. And I realized, long after Dief says he did, that in fact this isn't my life anymore. I may return here one day, and a new chapter may open here, but for now the stuff of my life lies in Chicago, with the strange criminals and sometimes stranger policemen, with the noise and frustration and smell, with the Lieutenant's brusque manner and Francesca's embarrassing innuendos, and Ray's generosity and kindness. That, thanks to him, is my life now, and I return to it all the more gladly for this intermission.
I thought, when I first made it out to the wilderness with Dief at my side, that it was like coming back to life. This, after all, is my real life: the loneliness but also the purpose, and the wonder at the vast glory around me, and the service to my community. I had been exiled, yes, but here was a small taste, to remind myself that one day, if I were patient, I would return to my life for good. Chicago had been unreal, a deafening confusion of sights and smells and people. Some of those people had grown very dear to me, and when I returned I would miss them: Lieutenant Welsh, Jack Huey, and of course the Vecchios, who had been so kind in welcoming me. But the city itself was a nightmare.
I determined to use my time home wisely, and yet of course my plans went astray, as they so often seemed these days to do, and Dief and I found ourselves in a long-ranging pursuit of an offender. Though the surroundings were much more natural to me, it reminded me very much of Chicago, and of the cases Ray Vecchio and I worked, and I thought how good it was to have this reminder of how hectic life there was. I thought it would spur me to greater appreciate the small reprieve I had before needing to return to the city.
After the criminal was apprehended, however, and I had had the strangest conversation with Ray, I realized that I felt as though something was missing. As though I were waiting for the next thing to happen, when I had expected to be enjoying the peace. And I realized, long after Dief says he did, that in fact this isn't my life anymore. I may return here one day, and a new chapter may open here, but for now the stuff of my life lies in Chicago, with the strange criminals and sometimes stranger policemen, with the noise and frustration and smell, with the Lieutenant's brusque manner and Francesca's embarrassing innuendos, and Ray's generosity and kindness. That, thanks to him, is my life now, and I return to it all the more gladly for this intermission.
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Date: 2003-05-17 08:42 am (UTC)-R
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Date: 2003-05-21 12:13 pm (UTC)It's not that I think Fraser's not going to go home eventually (well, okay, obviously), or even that he thinks of Chicago as home; but he does seem to enjoy himself more when he's got a straight man for his wacky methods of law enforcement!
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Date: 2003-05-17 09:21 am (UTC)I really enjoyed this glimpse into Fraser's mind.
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Date: 2003-05-21 12:16 pm (UTC)Thank you for responding!